


I Wanna Do Real Bad Things With You

by Desdemona



Series: There's Probably A Rolling Stones Song About This [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdemona/pseuds/Desdemona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Because who could regret you, Stiles?” she murmured. “Who could?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Do Real Bad Things With You

**Author's Note:**

> You don't necessarily need to read the first in this series to get what's going on in this one but I recommend it to have a better understanding of what I'm doing with the characters.
> 
> Also, I've scanned through this and I believe I got most of the errors but bear with me if you see any. I always look back obsessively so I'm sure if you see it now, I'll see it later and I'll fix it :)
> 
> Title is courtesy of the Jace Evertt song, "Bad Things". I recommend listening to that afterward. Happy reading!

 

 

It was a party because there was always a party and it was Lydia's party because it was always Lydia's party. The fact that it was their graduation party, that this was that party where you celebrated the end of childhood didn't seem to give the air any kind of special tension.

People partied as hard as they ever had with their friends, as if this day was just another day in a long stream of same old, same old.

Allison could admit, at least to herself, that if it wasn't for what the next week meant for her, she'd probably be doing the same thing.

Well. No.

She'd never graduated before. Never been in a school long enough to make friends. Had definitely never found a group like the one she'd stumbled into. She'd never had a love like Scott, who even now, sat next to her on the couch, surrounding her, his arm resting on the cushion behind her head, his jean-clad thigh bumping her bare one while he laughed at someone's drunk antics.

She'd never had anything like what she had right now in Beacon Hills. And when she left it for training in Colorado, Allison knew she was going to miss this town like she'd never missed anything before in her life.

Save for her mother. That was a bone deep kind of missing that would never go away. Nothing compared to that.

Allison closed her eyes and leaned her head on Scott's shoulder, relieved when he dropped his arm down to curve around her waist. He nuzzled her hair, trailed tiny kisses along her hairline.

“I love you,” she said.

His smile was warm against her skin. “I love you too.” His hesitation was so brief that she was tempted to ignore it, the way she'd been ignoring the flipside to leaving Beacon Hills. “We kinda gotta talk about this some time, Allison.”

She scrunched her eyes tighter together. “Scott.”

“I know you don't want to. But there's so much going on lately that I...just don't want us to not figure things out.”

“We will.” Allison opened her eyes as she twisted to face him. “You have to give me time, okay? Long distance is a lot to ask for.”

“But why?” Scott frowned. “We were sneaking around your dad for like a month. In case you haven't met him, he's scary. A two hour flight and Skype is like, nothing.”

“It's not about that. I don't want to have a boyfriend that I can't touch, Scott.” She straightened, staring at his hand on her waist. Allison trailed her finger along the curve of his knuckles. “I don't want to be the girl pining. I don't want to live on Skype.”

“It won't be so bad,” he said, turning his hand palm up for her wandering fingers. “You'll see. We'll have date nights. I'll send you dirty pictures.”

Allison snorted, biting hard on her lip. “Pictures won't keep me warm at night.”

He nudged her ear with his nose before pressing a brief kiss to the skin beneath. “That's what visitation's for.”

Scott pressed another kiss on her jaw, then another and another until he was at her mouth. Allison kissed him back, savoring the taste of him the way she had everyday for the last few years. He always tasted sweet because sugar was his kryptonite and this time was no different. She tasted mint and the very mild hint of beer which turned out not to be the worst combination ever.

He gave a little approving rumble, slipping his hand to cup the back of her head and flicked his tongue against her lips, seeking entrance. Allison opened her mouth on a sigh and let him distract her. A guilty tingle tried to worm it's way into her and she firmly squashed it. Or as best she could anyway.

They were going to figure this all out. There was no reason to hurry. She still had next week until Friday when she flew out. Allison hadn't even packed yet.

There was still time.

She pulled away and met his gaze. “Keep kissing me like that and maybe I won't leave at all,” she teased.

Scott cocked a smile her way, full of bad intentions and determination. “That's the plan.”

 

* * *

 

“And this the part where I save only one of you.” Stiles' voice broke through a second before his arm came around her waist and jerked her back and off the couch.

“Stiles, what're you...!” she shouted a second before Scott howled – in an entirely human way – as a rush of water came tumbling over him. Ice cubes bounced all over. Allison swung her gaze up in time to see the majority of the lacrosse team crack up, clutching a giant, and now empty, container between them.

“McCall.” Jackson pushed through them, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth. “Can't end the last year without a little hell, right?”

Scott broke out into a laugh, starling Allison into remembering that in some improbable way, Jackson and Scott were friends. Or at least teammates that didn't hate each other quite as violently as they used to. They'd reach a level of pranking that even Stiles was part of every now and then.

Scott's smile was blinding. “You guys are a bunch of jerks, you know that?”

Danny ruffled Scott's sopping wet mop of hair. “It's one last hurrah, co-captain. Don't worry. Jackson's next.”

Jackson snorted. “You come near me with anything that even looks like a massive container of liquid and I will put Nair in your shampoo.”

Danny grinned. “I changed the locks just to prevent that from happening.”

“I'll still get in.” Jackson dug his elbow into Danny's side. Danny immediately shoved him off, still smiling. “Your parents like me more anyway.”

Scott jerked a thumb in Stiles' direction. “If not, Stiles learned how to pick locks.”

“Pleading the fifth. I am pleading the fifth right now,” Stiles said, miming a zipper across his mouth with his free hand.

Allison chuckled with them and slowly phased out of the conversation, taking a moment to look around at the faces she'd come to know and love in different ways. The only one missing was Lydia. But she was off probably being super hostess, ensuring that this party was _the_ party. A lot of things had changed over time but that hadn't.

Lydia would always want to be top of the social hierarchy. It was weird how Allison was going to miss that.

Just like she'd miss Jackson's mockery and Danny's pitch perfect sarcasm. And Scott...there were too many things about Scott that she was going to miss to name.

Then of course, there was Stiles.

As if saying his name was the little nudge her brain needed, she came out of her thoughts to listen to the guys talk about grabbing food. At that precise second, she shifted to get Scott's attention and realized that Stiles was still holding onto her.

Casually, as if he'd forgotten about it now that the joke was over. Allison sucked in a quiet breath against her will as the heat of his arm, bared by his short-sleeved shirt, made it's way through her thin t-shirt.

Her stomach twisted into a hot ball.

Just like that, she was forcibly reminded of one of the biggest reasons for leaving. Technicolor memories tugged at her. Sensation came rushing back.

Three years. Three years of completely and totally ignoring the moment when Scott stopped being the only one on her radar. Of never being alone with Stiles. Of never touching, not even by accident, lest something be triggered all over again.

Lest Scott _figured something out._

She still hadn't figured out to tell Stiles goodbye. But then, up until now, he'd done an amazing impression of a ghost.

“Stiles,” she started as he cracked a few jokes with Danny.

“Hm,” he said as he turned. Then promptly froze.

Allison fought to keep her heart calm. Scott was right there. “Let go.”

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded and released her at a decent pace, not too quickly, not too slowly but she still felt the pressure of his fingers pulling away.

Her heart kicked up a little bit. Scott glanced over and she waved at him, smiling as best she could. He made a silly kissy face and climbed to his feet as the rest of the guys started shifting toward the kitchen.

Stiles made to move as the guys passed, his whole body practically radiating tension. Allison instinctively slapped her hand out, catching him in the chest before he could take as much as one step.

“I need to talk to you,” she said quietly.

“We'll talk later.” Stiles shifted away from her touch. But not before she felt his heart thump a little harder. “Really. I promise.”

“Stop running from me.” The words slipped out before she even knew she intended to say them. They froze him though, his back to her. Allison didn't want to be freaky and stare at the back of his head so she found her gaze drifting over him. Stiles hadn't gotten bigger over time. Just longer and leaner, his muscles subtle versus Scott's brawn. But his shoulders had broadened a tad, stretching his shirt out admirably.

Allison swallowed, yanking her gaze away. Because she was ogling him, God help her, like she'd never seen a pair of shoulders in a shirt before.

Stiles turned slowly, dragging a hand over his short hair and then over his face. “It's not that bad.” He chewed on his lip, looking down and away from her.

“You're such a bad liar.” Her fingers were hurting. Allison glanced down to find them clenched in fists. “Like how you kept Scott's secret for so long is a miracle.”

He jerked his head up. Bright, sharp eyes pinned her to the spot. “Oh, but I've become great at keeping secrets. I could teach a freaking master class on it.”

Allison fought a cringe and glanced around the room to see if anyone caught the dig. But they were completely ignored by the people milling around, dancing and talking.

“Look, I don't want to fight.” Allison crossed her arms. “I just want to talk to you.”

Stiles grabbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Allison, that doesn't seem like a great way to keep distance. The whole talking alone thing.”

“I'm leaving soon, does it really matter?” She couldn't keep the exasperation in if she tried.

He met her gaze, a wan smile tugging at his mouth. “When you put it that way.”

A little tension seeped out. It wasn't the best of circumstances and she really hadn't intended to do this here. But the opportunity was staring her right in the face. She needed to close the circle and figure out this thing with Scott.

Sure, she'd been doing really well about not thinking about it. But look how quickly that crumbled to the ground.

All he'd had to do was touch her.

Allison couldn't avoid him forever. This had to be put to bed.

She had to say goodbye.

 

* * *

They ended up in a prettily decorated bathroom just from lack of anywhere else to be. It was done up in soft blues and greens with an enormous shower and somehow was completely empty despite the fact that kids were literally everywhere, in corners, in nooks, in crannies. Allison had no idea how Lydia was controlling the ruckus or if she was even bothering to do so. But there were so many bodies that Allison was fighting off a surprise bout of claustrophobia by the time the door had been shut and locked behind them, enclosing them in sudden silence. Well, almost silence. Music thumped against the wall, muted but not by much.

Still, better than nothing. She leaned against the door and took a sharp breath.

“Hey, you okay?” Stiles' concern had her opening her eyes. He frowned at her, hands tucked in his pockets.

“Fine.” Allison took another cleansing breath. “There's just so many people. I don't think I've seen this many even at school.”

Stiles chuckled, the noise warm and indulgent. “Yeah, well, no one misses a Lydia Martin party if they can help it.”

“I noticed.” She crossed her arms. “And this one's a really big deal.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head, smiling crookedly. “Funny to think, Scott and I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You were mine and his ticket in, you know. Best friends with Lydia on your very first day.”

Allison rubbed her cheek, annoyed with the way it warmed under his gentle mockery. “She was just being nice.”

“There's a lot of things that Lydia is but nice isn't one of them.” Stiles wandered over the toilet, plunking himself on the lid. “Strategic is more like it. Like a better and cuter Wile E. Coyote.”

“Making me a dumber Road Runner?”

Stiles snorted. “There's nothing dumb about you.”

“I...” Allison swallowed, thrown by how much that simple statement made her chest tighten. These days, she didn't feel all that smart. Her dad sure didn't think she was. Even now, years after she'd lost it and gone vigilante, after she'd gotten herself back on track, his distrust and disappointment sat on her shoulders. Which was at least half Gerard's fault because he'd messed her up so badly that she wasn't sure she'd know a good choice if it slapped her in the face.

Allison hadn't felt anywhere close to smart in a long, long time. To hear Stiles say it with in such a factual tone ripped her up.

“Thanks, Stiles,” she managed to finally choke out. “Just...thanks.”

Stiles glanced at her, his gaze confused before softening like he understood. “Anytime.”

Warmth surged through her, sweet and heart-breaking all at once. Part of making that bad, bad choice at prom was losing out on Stiles as a friend too. Clever, smart-mouthed and feel-good Stiles the friend.

They would never be friends now. They couldn't be. Allison dropped her head, wishing all over again that she'd never toed that line.

“Stiles, I'm sorry,” she said, ripping the band-aid off as fast as she could. “I'm really, really sorry.”

Tension snapped the air tight as soon as the words left her mouth. Stiles' shoes began a nervous dance against the tile.

“It's not...it's not a...we're handling. It's handled actually.”

She looked up at him, eyebrows lifted. “No, it's not. All we do is avoid each other.”

“I...” he sighed. “What else are we supposed to do? Talk it out? There's nothing that we should even discuss. Whatever thoughts going on,” his fingers danced in a dizzy circle by his temple, “in there should just stay in there where no one with super good canine ears can ever pick up.”

Allison bit her lip, wavering in her determination.“Even through the bass?”

Stiles shrugged. He'd gotten better with those, conveying so much in one sharp motion of his shoulders. “Maybe no, maybe yes. Either way, it's done. We are done here. Really.” He came to his feet and walked toward her.

“It's done,” he repeated again, softly. “All that's left are goodbyes.”

Allison glanced at the space between them. He'd stopped just out of her reach, leaving a gap that felt like acres of landmines. He was absolutely right though. It was done. She was leaving and he was staying. The memories weren't going to die any time soon but with separation, there would come peace.

There was nothing here. Except there was.

Allison lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “If there is really nothing else here....”

“There isn't.”

She opened her arms. “Then hug me goodbye.”

 

* * * *

Allison had no idea how long they stood there, staring at each other. She wasn't sure he was breathing because she wasn't. An alarm had sounded in her head the minute the words escaped. There were better ways to deal with this, better ways to fix what was damaged.

Instead, here she was, making another undoubtedly bad decision. Her arms ached a little, telling her it had been a few minutes at least. But not too long because she was sure Scott would have come looking for her otherwise. Her phone was still quiet in her pocket.

For the time being, it was them, just them.

Stiles suddenly took a breath and straightened his back. “Okay, fine. If that's what you want.”

“Yeah,” she rasped before clearing her throat. “Yeah, I just want a hug.”

His response was much, much softer the second time around. “Okay.”

Allison lifted her arms as Stiles slowly covered the little bit of distance between them. His shoes met the tips of hers first. He bent down, reminding her that he'd gained some inches in height on her, closing in on six feet but not quite. Her arms finally slid over his and looped around his neck while Stiles' slid around her waist.

Allison slotted against him, all of her curves fitting into his sharper angles. Her breath backed up in her throat. The scent of him rushed in, warm and familiar. Against her will, she buried her nose against his neck.

Stiles let out a muffled groan, his grip tightening.

They stopped moving. Her fingers grazed his nape and she knew, knew, _knew_ that this was not only a bad idea – it was the worst.

“Allison,” Stiles said, hours and hours later. “Allison.”

“Yes.” She could barely hear herself over her heart's wild horse pounding. What if Scott heard her? The thought only made her heart go faster.

“I was wrong.” He turned to face her, dragging his hand up to cup her chin. “Can't hug you.”

Allison licked her lips. “Why?”

“I stopped myself once.” His thumb came dangerously close to her lip. She could feel her mouth tremble in response. “I stopped myself for three years. I can't just hug you.”

Allison swallowed. “We're hugging now.”

“No.” Stiles' eyes darkened. There was defeat in his gaze but more, there was something that made her entire body go hot all over. “We're not.”

Her decisions just kept getting worse.

“Hug me then,” she whispered, giving up on ever doing the right thing again. “The way you want to.”

Stiles let his thumb finally press against her lip. Her tongue flicked out against her will, bringing back the salt of his skin. He moved his hand to cup her cheek, leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Allison started to turn into it before remembering that Scott had....

“Don't kiss me,” she said before his mouth could move again. “Please.”

Stiles froze. Too late, Allison realized how that sounded and scrambled to explain.

“It's just that Scott...”

“No, it's okay.” Stiles cut her off but met her gaze this time. “I know.”

Guilt crept in, slinky and chilly against the warmth of his body against hers. She swallowed, moving her hand to brush her thumb over his cheek. “I'm sorry.”

Stiles shook his head. “Me too.”

He leaned back, giving her space. At least she thought that. Instead, he shifted them until she was pressed against the door and placed his mouth further away from her mouth, on her cheek, trailing along her jaw.

Allison stuttered on a sigh, tension spiraling down to snap taut in her thighs. His hands slid down to roll over her shoulders and sweep down to her hips, then a little lower to play with the hem of her shorts. She tilted her neck for his mouth as he trailed down to lick over the pulse flickering in her throat. Sensation followed his every touch, sparking tiny explosions of roiling delirium all over her nerve endings.

“Spread your legs,” he whispered against her skin. “Please, Allison.”

She shuddered as she edged her legs apart. Stiles transferred his grip to her bottom and in one go, lifted her up.

Allison moaned, shocked to hear the noise escape and unable to stop it. Her fingers scrambled for a grip in his hair before she found purchase lower on his shoulders.

“Hold onto me.” The words singed her all the through even as she wrapped her legs around him. Stiles pressed her harder against the door, stepping fully in between. The first time his hips ground against her, Allison had to bury her face in his neck as long-denied pleasure ripped through her. She dug her heels into his butt and tried to pull him closer.

“Stiles, oh God,” she choked, her hands gripping and tugging at his shirt. “Oh God, do that again.”

“No choice here,” Stiles answered, his voice tight. “Absolutely no choice here at all anymore.”

She knew exactly how that felt.

Her back steadily thumped against the wall as he built up a steady thrust, his hips bringing him so close to where she wanted him that it drove short, frustrated sighs out of her. He was so hard, even through two layers of denim. Allison wanted to grind against him, wanted to shove her shorts off, wanted to push his jeans away and have him sink into her.

Wanted him so deep that she'd feel for days. This...this _teasing_ was killing her.

“Allison, God, shut up,” Stiles panted.

She slapped her mouth shut, startled to realize she'd been talking. “Was I...”

“Going to make me come in my jeans, yeah, kinda.” He shot her a dry look. “Definitely put me on my way there.”

Allison surprised herself with a low, pained laugh. “But did it convince you?”

Stiles swallowed, the humour in his gaze giving away to the heat again. “You really want that? You can't...you can't hide that, Allison.”

Allison closed her eyes, tempted to ignore that. Tempted to ignore everything that wasn't here and now. Tempted to ignore how she was going to have to explain why she smelled like Stiles but that would be easy. No, it was the part where she'd smell of his want and her want because she'd bet she reeked of that right now.

Allison would bet she was a feast of need.

But she'd given up on doing the right thing the minute she'd opened her arms to him. She dropped her legs and he set her down immediately, probably thinking she was going to do the smart thing and get away. It was all over his face, in the way he gave her immediate space.

Stiles had never been this easy to read. But then, Allison didn't think they'd ever wanted the exact same thing this wrongly before.

Allison followed him, reaching out to splay her hands across his chest. Her hand drifted over his heart, knocking hard against his ribs the way hers was.

Was it her imagination or were their hearts beating in tandem?

“Stiles,” she said gently. “I'm hiding so much already. What's another secret?”

Regret flashed like lightning in his gaze. “I don't want to be a secret.”

“You're the biggest one.” She stretched up, just to even out those last few inches. Their mouths were perfectly aligned. “But you're the one I'll never regret.”

And how weird to know those words rang true when they shouldn't but oh, how did they did. Because despite everything, she did not regret Stiles. She regretted a hundred other things surrounding him, sure. She regretted the situation, hated what her own loneliness had pushed her into doing, hated how they'd danced around each other for three freaking years, yes all that she regretted.

But dancing with Stiles? She'd never regretted that.

This moment right here, the moment against the door - she didn't regret those at all.

“Because who could regret you, Stiles?” she murmured. “Who could?”

He went statue still. This close, Allison could see his eyes dilate. His heart pounded harder against her palms, his chest practically jumping under her hands.

“Crap,” Stiles muttered before dipping down and pressing his lips against her cheek. Allison froze before her eyes drifted closed. His hands came up to cover hers as his mouth lingered against her skin.

It was the most devastating kiss she'd ever received.

“Stiles,” she choked on his name, her throat squeezing.

“I don't regret you either.” He kissed her cheek again, drifting over closer to her mouth. “I don't know how.”

Allison opened her eyes as he stood straight again. “Wouldn't it be easier if we could?”

Stiles cocked a smile at her, loaded with fragile and broken things. “Easy's never been a friend of ours.”

She smiled and it hurt. “True.”

Stiles slid his arms around her again. “Let me do something?”

Allison nodded then swallowed hard when he slid to his knees. Gracefully. Who knew that Stiles was graceful?

“I want to do this, okay?” Stiles rested his hands on her short's waistband.

“But that's...” _Not what I want._

Because it had come down to that, her wants and his, tangled and messy and wrong.

“I know but there's some lines I'm not ready to cross.” An unspoken _yet_ filtered between them, loud and quiet at the same time.

Allison's thighs threatened to melt. “But this?”

He tapped his thumb against the button. “Is all we have time for.”

Allison reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, unsurprised that there was a missed call from Scott and a dancing envelope. She looked down at Stiles and wondered how he knew before remembering who he was. Who she was.

He probably had a dancing envelope too. After a moment, Allison put the phone on silent and set it on the counter top beside the sink before bracing her hands on the cool marble.

Stiles popped the button and peeled the zipper down, the noise shredding Allison's nerves to pieces. His fingers were actually shaking as he pulled her shorts down, assisting them all the way to her ankles.

It was a relief to know it wasn't just her. His hands smoothed over her panties, dragging over the wet spot. A whimper caught in her throat, emerging in a harsh, low sound as Stiles tugged those down too.

He pressed against her thighs. Allison opened without a word. Too late, far too late, a shocked shudder tried to wreck her as another boy, not-Scott, looked at her, bare and open. Her hips twitched against her will.

Then Stiles said, with perfect awe, “Wow, Allison,” and it was okay again, even if it really, really shouldn't have been.

The first touch of his mouth against her tore a cry from her throat that she barely managed to muffle behind her hand. Stiles made a responding rumble before his tongue flicked out. He dragged his tongue over her, his mouth searching for where the moisture had gathered.

Allison rocked against him slowly, wet and getting wetter. Stiles spread her open with his thumbs, his tongue lapping at her hungrily. Allison dug her fingers into the marble when he found her clit. She jerked against him when his lips closed and he sucked.

Pleasure curled her toes and rushed upward, spilling hotly through her veins. It was a raging fire, growing brighter and stronger with each tug of his lips. His fingers slipped up to cup her butt, pressing her firmly to his mouth.

Allison ended up half-curled over him, her fingers digging into his shoulders through his shirt. Her hair tumbled everywhere, curtaining them. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except his mouth, his tongue and the gentle threat of his teeth.

She could only push against him, fighting down the scream collecting in her chest.

Stiles treated her like a meal, a four-course buffet and he was starving. Allison wanted him to stop, wanted him to keep going, wanted to come. Most of all, she wanted to come. His mouth practically pushed her toward it. The slick, dirty sound of him gorging himself on her raked her senses, battering her with delirious sensation.

Until she knew nothing, absolutely nothing, except the boy on his knees, paying her such dedicated homage.

Allison dragged her hands to the back of his head, reminding herself that this wasn't just a boy. She brought her hands around to his cheeks and pressed until he gazed up at her with those heart-breaking hazel eyes, darkened now to a deep brown with lust and concentration.

This was Stiles.

And that made everything different.

Allison locked gazes with him as the orgasm slammed into her at full speed, yanking her breath from her lungs on a long, tortured moan that sounded a lot like his name.

His eyes fluttered closed then back open to meet her gaze again. Allison sank down to his level seconds afterward. Stiles slowed her fall, taking the brunt of her weight as her knees gave up the ghost. His arms wrapped tight around her, his mouth buried in her hair. Splayed over him, naked and wet, her breasts pushed against his chest so closely that she felt his heart pounding along with hers, Allison could feel him, heavy and expectant even through his jeans.

But the minute she found the energy to move her hand to his zipper, Stiles stopped her with a simple, “Leave it.”

Allison shuddered. “That's not fair.”

“Life's not fair.” Stiles stroked her hair from her face, tilting her chin up so their gazes could meet. “Sometimes, it doesn't have to be either. Sometimes, it's okay even when it's not.”

Allison bit her lip. He rubbed it as soon as she stopped.

“This was enough,” Stiles said quietly. “It was more. And it was enough.”

Her heart twisted. More and enough. He was exactly right.

Stiles helped her stand back up again and put herself back to rights. Her knees still wobbled, leaving her leaning hard against the counter as she checked her phone. There were more bouncing envelopes.

Allison stared at the screen, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “How do...what do we do now?”

Stiles stayed quiet until she looked up. His gaze was still dark but now she could almost see his brain whirring. “I think I have an idea.”

He moved around her to the door, opened it and stepped out, all of him disappearing except for a foot he had propped against the door. Music and voices rushed in, a stark and unwanted reminder of what was going on outside the door.

When Stiles came back in, he held a somewhat crumpled red cup in his hand that she'd bet dollars to donuts he'd just plucked out of someone's hand. She didn't have to get close to know what is in it.

“I'm going to leave first. When I do, dump this on yourself.”

“What? Why?” Allison stared at the cup then glanced back him, her post-orgasm brain too fuzzy to get it.

“Pour the beer on your shirt. A good, healthy splash. Make sure it gets on your hands and your arms.” Stiles pointed at the shower. “There's some soap in there. Scrub yourself down a little, and do your shirt too.”

Her brain finally turned over. “You're giving me an alibi.”

Stiles crammed his hands in pockets. The outline of his dick came into stark view, leaving her both hungry and embarrassed that he hadn't let her do anything for him.

“I'm giving us a story to tell.” Stiles' quiet voice pulled her back into reality. “But yeah. Alibi works too.”

Allison looked at the cup, bit her lip. “Thank you.”

“Don't.”

She looked up, stung. “I'm not thanking you for...for....”

“I know.” Stiles gave her an unreadable look. “But don't.”

Allison hesitated then crossed to him, bracing against him and raising herself up on her toes as well. Stiles was leaning down, like it was already habit. But he gave a surprised noise when she pressed her mouth to his.

She had no idea what made her do it. Except she did. If he could say no to one thing, she would give him something that he couldn't deny.

Allison had no idea what she tasted like but if she had to name the taste on his tongue, she would have called it earthy and maybe a little bitter. Under that, however, was him. Something dark and rich with a twist of sweetness that fit him perfectly.

He grasped her waist with light hands, kissing her back so shakily that Allison wanted to push him against the door and get his dick out. Wanted to even things out because he needed it, she could practically taste how much he did.

Except she didn't. Because he told her not to. Stiles backed away from the kiss before she did, licking his lips over and over, leaving his mouth plump and red.

Hers felt just as swollen.

“Allison.” Stiles stumbled on her name like he'd never said it before.

“Sometimes, it's not enough,” she said, answering him anyway.

He blew out a heavy breath. “Guess not.”

“Go,” she urged when he still stood there, looking her over. His mouth tempted her. His dick did. He did.

He tempted her so badly.

Stiles grabbed the door, looked at her one more time and then disappeared out in the hall, closing the door with a gentle click behind him.

“Goodbye Stiles,” she said softly. Allison looked at the cup and her phone. In a matter of minutes – or hours, she had no idea how long they'd been in there – her life had dwindled down to two impossibilities.

Again.

Just like before, she knew how each would probably play out. Neither ended well for her. But then, when did they ever?

She was Allison Argent, Queen of Bad Decisions and Bad Ideas. She should be used to this. She looked at herself in the mirror, at her mussed hair and flushed cheeks and couldn't drum up an ounce of sadness.

Maybe she'd used all of it, feeling bad for what she and Stiles had gone through.

She'd made her choices.

Maybe it was time to stop waiting to feel bad. Maybe it was time to grow up and move on. Allison looked down at her phone, scrolling through to Scott's last message, a somewhat desperate plea to know where she was.

She wondered if he'd followed her scent through the house or if it had mixed with Stiles. Had the smell of Stiles kept him from looking too closely? Had her heartbeat and his been masked by the music?

Allison locked the bathroom door and put the cup of beer between her teeth as she texted him back while turning on the shower.

_Someone spilled beer on me. Just washing off._

As she dumped the booze on her, filling the room with the nose-tingling scent of alcohol, Allison knew that whatever his next question was, she wasn't going to answer it the way he wanted.

There was still another decision that needed to be made. Whether it would turn out good or bad was something she actually couldn't predict for once.

And yet, she'd make it and keep going. Maybe life wasn't fair. Allison touched her mouth. No, scratch that, it definitely wasn't.

But that didn't mean she wouldn't find a way to make things work in the end.

One bad choice at a time.

 


End file.
